


His Greatest Weakness

by pacificnewt



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, I AM SORRY, M/M, ed still tells riddles on the brink of death, poor penguin, this is why we can’t have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificnewt/pseuds/pacificnewt
Summary: While Oswald lay over Ed’s chest dizzying himself with grunts and broken pleads, his mind flickered to and replayed the instance in which Ed told him love was his greatest weakness.It wasn’t until now Oswald realized that was wrong. His greatest weakness was, and always had been, Ed.





	His Greatest Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> q: do penguins have feelings?
> 
> a: after accidentally shooting someone they love, yes they sure do

He didn’t mean it.

Oswald’s thin fingers trembled violently against the trigger of his gun. He stood, shocked, staring at the gasping and twitching heap in front of him. His eyes were blank and his heart beat out of his chest. He didn’t like the thrill of the kill when he wasn’t sure who he’d even shot.

“Oswald—!”

And his heart sank.

Oswald would remind himself on the daily of the promise he made when Edward Nygma saved his life. _Never let that man out of your sight. Protect him, care for him, and above all, offer him love._ For months all he’d done was obsess on and off and on again about how he treated Ed, how Ed thought of him, if Ed loved him. The Penguin figured he could never be too careful as he’d cursed himself times before for bringing terrible luck around as if it were on a leash. It was nothing that he wanted, but most days Oswald seemed shrouded in inevitable tragedy not even the purest love could penetrate.

He found himself choking on his own breath, words long out of his mind. He recognized the voice that whined his name from the floor; for the way it trembled with confusion was the way he had only heard one man speak. Oswald immediately dropped his gun.

“Who...”

“Oswald,” the voice whined again. “Oswald. Why did you—“

Oswald shrieked. His entire body threw itself into the ground and began to shake with emotions he couldn’t dream of pinpointing. He landed in an unfortunate position directly onto his bad knee, sending a sharp pain through his entire leg, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Ed. Ed! ED!”

“Calm down.” For someone who’d just been shot, Edward was calm. It was as if he was cautious enough to not further agitate Oswald, for he doubted he could handle too much more yelling. “Please,” he pleaded.

Oswald slowly edged on hysterics with tears quickly flowing from his eyes. His hands appeared to be struck with earthquake-like shaking while they grasped at Ed’s wound and the growing bloodstain on the front of his shirt. “Calm down? Ed, I hurt you, I hurt you bad, please tell me you’re going to be alright!” His chest heaved and his voice began to break. “Ed. Are you alright?” He was desperate for any consolation.

“Right as rain,” Ed murmured softly. His fingers tumbled on the floor until they found Oswald’s free hand and he gently gave his fingers a squeeze. His blood was gushing out onto the floor of Oswald’s kitchen at a quicker pace than he’d like to admit. “May I ask why?”

“Why? Why what?” Oswald carelessly took his hand away from Ed’s and started unbuttoning his shirt. He found the bullet lodged in his abdomen and instantly felt nauseous. Looking back at Ed and seeing his tender smile made him almost throw up on the spot.

“Why... why did you...” Ed weakly dragged his hand across his blood-covered chest. “You shot me,” he whispered. “Why?”

“Why?” He seemed to be hyperventilating now. “Why? Edward, you weren’t supposed to be here... what are you doing here? Why did you come?” He was slowly getting angry with Ed, since he was remained composed even given these circumstances. Oswald deserved to be screamed at with Ed’s last breaths.

Ed closed his eyes and took as deep a breath he could manage. “What... is worth a billion dollars, but comes to you for free?” His voice was hushed and strained.

“We have no time for this! Ed, Ed. This was my fault. Why don’t you hate me?” Oswald’s hands were still shaking, pressing onto the wound ever carefully. “Stay with me, don’t—“

“Love,” Ed croaked. “Os...”

Oswald’s teeth were clenched and his sobs unstoppable. He was too worked up to speak.

With what strength he had left, Ed found Oswald’s hand once more and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

If his eyes weren’t already closed, the way Ed’s chest seized to rise and fall was telltale enough. His mouth fell slightly open, his lips parted and soon to grow cold.

The pain in Oswald’s body and mind was immeasurable. He couldn’t breathe and he trembled, trembled, and trembled more. He opened his mouth and tried to get a word out, but he could only scream. His hands frantically weeded their way into Ed’s hair and over his body. Here he sat with a dead man, awaiting an answer he would never get.

Moments passed until Oswald realized Ed clenched a piece of paper in his hand. Nothing formal, a simple sheet with pen scrawled on it in his familiar handwriting. After taking a painful glance at Ed’s face, Oswald bitterly ripped the paper from his hand and tried to see through his foggy eyes and the dark of his home to make it out.

“Useless for one, but absolute bliss to two. The small boy gets it for free, the young man has to lie or work for it. The old man has to buy it. It’s a baby’s right, the lover’s privilege, the hypocrite’s mask. To the young girl, faith; to the married woman, hope; what am I?” Oswald folded the paper down to see the words “a kiss” with a small chocolate kiss attached. His eyes feverishly scanned the rest of the page, “thank you” this and “I appreciate” that, and then Oswald came across words that stopped his heart.

“I love you.”

He stared, feeling everything and feeling completely empty at the same time. Somewhere in the current brokenness of his mind Oswald realized Ed had paid him a visit tonight to give him this. The paper burned on Oswald’s skin and he dropped it to the floor. He had been none the wiser and put a bullet in the only man he loved, in the only man that loved him, as a selfish move of self defense. Ed smiled still, glasses crooked on his face and hair newly mussed from Oswald’s fussing. Somehow he was still the same beautiful man as he was when grinning ear to ear, hair styled, eyes bright and happy.

Oswald took fistfuls of Ed’s shirt and he wailed louder than ever. His head fell onto Ed’s quiet chest and he sobbed and screamed. He didn’t break in, Oswald had given Ed a key to the mansion in case he needed anything. The thought had slipped Oswald’s mind when he heard footsteps and rustling from his kitchen and his first instinct was to shoot and kill.

While Oswald lay over Ed’s chest dizzying himself with grunts and broken pleads, his mind flickered to and replayed the instance in which Ed told him love was his greatest weakness.

It wasn’t until now Oswald realized that was wrong. His greatest weakness was, and always had been, Ed.


End file.
